It's Always Darkest Before The Dawn
by Bananas102
Summary: Sam and Dean have adapted to Sam's werewolf life, but now new dangers arise as a werewolf hunter enters town, and Sam will have to prove both his leadership to the pack, and his loyalty to his brother. Set in 'Dark Side of The Moon' verse.
1. Chapter 1

"Sam!"

"Uhh...what?"

"Get over here."

"...Why?"

"You gotta sniff this and tell me if it's still good or not."

"Dean, I'm not a friggin dog."

"In a week, you will be."

"..."

"I'm kidding. Now get your ass out of bed, sasquatch."

* * *

_He dug his claws into the Alpha's fur and a sharp force sent him reeling. _

_He got to his feet and snarled before lunging, closing his jaws around the Alpha's throat-_

Sam gasped in air and bolted upright, panting. His chest heaved as he took in deep lungfuls of air and the cool air of the mote room made him shiver.

"Sam? You okay?"

Dean was sitting at the table, laptop open and small lamp turned on to the lowest setting. The warm golden light accentuated his sharp features.

Sam nodded mutely.

"Another nightmare?" Sam hesitated before nodding.

"Yeah," he aid hoarsely. Dean exhaled through his nose. "You wanna tell me what it was about?"

Sam's brow furrowed, but he shook his head. Dean nodded. "Okay."

Sam had been having nightmares ever since he became Alpha. Though Sam doesn't tell Dean what they were about, Dean knew. He knew from the whimpering and the horrified whispers of Sheila's name, and from the thrashing that looked all too much like what evasive maneuvers he pulled while fighting.

Dean had off and on nightmares about that night himself.

Once Dean had even suggested going to one of the wolves in the pack to talk about the dreams. Sam had frowned and listed two reasons why he wouldn't.

1) He didn't want to look weak (Dean understood that one; he had taken biology and learned about animal behavior and chain of command)

2) Sam trusted Dean over and wolf in the pack.

And that made Dean feel kind of special.

That was another thing. The pack and Dean didn't really get along.

They didn't really trust him, no matter how much praise Sam gave his brother, and Dean got the feeling they thought of him as not much more than a distraction for their Alpha.

Dean didn't trust them either. Several of them always looked kind of shady in the few times he'd seen and conversed with them.

But Sam trusted them, and they trusted him.

In Sam's mind, however, he valued the pack. At first he was very hesitant to lead, but time went on and the pack just wouldn't let up on the fact that he was Alpha. The one condition he had for taking over was that he was responsible for every single member.

He'd told Dean that once and his brother called him stupid. But that was more or less to be expected. In regards to Sam's brother, the pack knew to follow Dean's orders like they were his own.

One thing he'd never told the pack, or his brother, was that he held Dean above the pack. His would sacrifice every wolf in order to save his brother. The thought made him sick to his stomach, but he knew he would all the same.

* * *

"Sam."

Both brother turned to see Julia emerge from the woods, her black eyes scanning the surroundings before quickening her pace to her Alpha. Julia had straight black hair she almost always had up in a ponytail.

She was stubborn and thick-headed, always determined to follow Sam and only Sam. Which meant she couldn't care less if Dean crawled under a rock and died.

"Julia. What is it?" Sam asked, his brow furrowing in concern. The wolves knew to keep a distance unless it was a matter of importance.

"There's a hunter here, an he's been poking around in the woods. He seems to be specialized in werewolves."

Sam and Dean exchanged weary glances. "Okay. Thank you, Julia." She smiled at the praise. "I need you to take the pack and go; head for Bobby's and stay there until we arrive," he ordered.

She nodded, quick and sure before delving into the trees again.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ready to ditch this joint, little brother?" Dean asked, twirling the car keys around his index finger before his hand encompassed them.

Sam frowned. "Dean, I think we should stay, see what's up with the hunter."

Dean scowled. "If you think I'm letting your ass anywhere near his, I'm telling you now, it's not going to happen."

Sam pursed his lips. "I'm a werewolf Dean. It's not going to change. We can't avoid every hunter forever."

"We can try," Dean groused. Sam sighed. "Look, man, I know your worried. But you don't need to be. It's still a little while before the full moon, and all we're doing it checking him out."

"No."

"Dean-"

"_No_."

Sam crossed his arms and planted his feet. "I'm not going."

Dean narrowed his eyes at him. "You're acting like a child."

His little brother raised an eyebrow, huffing a laugh. "_I'm _acting like a child?"

"Yes."

"Dean, I'm not leaving. We haven't even been here three days and the pack covered their tracks. There's no way the hunter could have known we were here. He's not hunting us, so I'm curious as to what exactly he's here for. Aren't you?"

Dean mulled this over, jaw clenching periodically and his green eyes studying Sam.

"I don't like it," he warned. Sam grinned. "Great; let's go."

* * *

The bar was dark and cold and smelled as if the tables were washed with beer. Sam could tell Dean couldn't smell it to the same degree, so he figured his enhanced smell getting even more sharp probably had to do with the full moon next Monday.

Heads turned when they entered, but no one seemed too concerned with the unknown men coming in.

Dean nudged him. "Can you smell him out?"

Sam frowned. "I didn't pick up his scent. I have no idea who it is."

Dean sighed. "Just like old times then, huh?"

Sam was a little hurt because of the disappointed hint in his words, but took comfort in the fact that the other words seemed to be joking.

"I guess."

Dean nodded at him and went to go ask the bartender for info, and Sam turned to ask a few of the customers. A man weaved through the crowd, going in his direction. He looked pretty rough, tan jacket, ratty red baseball cap, and scruff he needed to shave.

He tapped Sam on the shoulder. "Hey, sorry to bother you, but could you come help me? My car's broken down."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Um..yeah, sure."

He followed the man outside. True to his word, the rusted truck he drove was down. "I'm not really good with cars. My brother can get it up and working again."

The man nodded. "Sure. Thanks."

He turned to go inside, and he'd only gotten a few feet before something hard and heavy struck him on the back of his head.

* * *

"Thanks," Dean said, sliding a twenty across the counter. He turned and glanced around for his little brother.

Sam didn't seem to be in the bar. Dean frowned and 'hmm'ed to himself before going outside.

He didn't seem to be out there either. "Sam?" he called. No answer. "Sam!"

Still nothing. There weren't many cars out in the parking lot. He jogged up to a guy working on his engine. "Hey, you seen a a guy; he's really tall, floppy hair?" The man's brow creased in thought.

"...No, I can't say I have. I'm sorry. Do you need me to call the police?"

Dean waved that away. "No, I'm sure he's around here somewhere."

The man nodded. "If you need any help-"

"Thanks," Dean supplied, cutting him off.

The engine the man was working on sputtered before rumbling to life. The man put down his hood and nodded at Dean.

"Hope you find who you're looking for," the man said before driving out of the place and onto the road.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean stood in the middle of the woods, insects buzzing in the background.

He raised two fingers and slipped them into his mouth and whistled. Loud.

* * *

"What do you mean, 'he's gone'?" Julia hissed. Dean glared at her. "Exactly what I said. I came out of the bar and he was gone." Julia bristled, her mouth opening to say something, but Keith put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Julia, calm down," he said softly. Keith was rather slender with pine green eyes and sand colored hair. He had light brown freckles spotting the tip of his nose. Keith was also very loyal, but not nearly as hot tempered as Julia.

Julia growled at him, and Keith quickly jerked his hand back. "Hey!" Brad snapped. Brad. Dean liked Brad. Brad was rather tall, bald, and had skin the color of chocolate. He was a very chill person, but was easy infuriated when someone from the pack was at risk. Dean included. To a degree.

Julia at least had the decency to look guilty, especially since Keith was rather sensitive.

"Why don't we all chill? It's not Dean's fault Sam is missing, and our Alpha isn't completely defenseless."

Dean nodded. "Thanks. Anyway, I was thinking; you picked up the hunter's scent earlier today, so if I took you back to the bar, do you think you could track the guy? We're going on a limb and assuming that it was the hunter that took Sam, so we can't waste time."

Julia clenched her jaw and looked at Dean. "Hmmph. Fine," she spat. "I'll go, and the others can stay." Dean frowned.

"Actually, I was thinking I could take Tom with me; you know, him being the better tracker and all," he said coldly. Tom looked up at the mention of his name from his crouched position at the base of a pine tree.

He was kind of your everyday guy, except maybe just a bit better looking. Light skin, brown hair, brown eyes, pink lips. He didn't really talk to anyone, and when he did, he surprised everyone.

"D'accord."

Like that. "What?" Conner asked, frowning. Conner was a ginger with auburn hair and sky blue eyes. To most girls, he wouldn't spike very high on the attractive meter, but after a closer look, he turned out to be better looking than they originally thought.

"Okay," Tom said simply. Conner raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything more. Emma put the back of her fist to her mouth to stifle her giggles. She was what most would categorize as a dumb blonde. Long blonde hair, blue eyes, not the best IQ, and in the rare times she went into bar, at least two guys turned in her direction.

Tom rose gracefully and both him and Dean departed.

* * *

Sam was woken by a throbbing pain in his skull. He let out a small groan, eyelids opening.

It was dark, except for a light bulb flickering as it hung from a cord in the ceiling near the center of the room.

Sam's limbs felt numb and heavy, as though he'd been pumped full of drugs before waking. Though he knew it could also be another side effect of being knocked out. There was a sharp ringing in his ears.

Suddenly, frigid water was dumped over his head, various hard objects knocking him painfully on the head. Sam gasped and sputtered, brushing his hair out of his face.

The small objects in the water lay mostly on his lap, and after a quick glance, he figured they were most likely ice cubes. It would explain why the water was so cold.

"Rise and shine," a voice crooned. Another chuckled. Sam tried to sit up, but something was stopping him.

With a jolt of fear Sam realized he was strapped to an operating table.

A click, and another, even bigger bulb fizzled to life above him. A man stood by his feet, looking at him with detached amusement.

"Should we get started?"


	4. Chapter 4

Tom knelt on the pavement, face less than an inch from the pavement. Dean groaned internally and looked around, praying to God that no one could tell that they knew each other.

"You talked."

Dean turned around, eyebrow raised. "What?" he asked, having no idea what Tom just said, while another part of him wished that he would just talk normally for once.

Tom sat back on his heels, looking up at him curiously. "You and the kidnapper: you met him, maybe even talked."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean frowned, brow scrunched in thought. "Dude, I didn't talk to anyone. Nobody, except-," he cut himself off. "God dammit!" Tom narrowed his eyes, but only because he was studying him.

"The guy. It was the frickin' guy! I was right there. God! Sam must've been in the trunk or somethin'," Dean grumbled. Tom cocked his head. "I have the scent of his car," he said.

Dean raised both eyebrows in brief surprise. "Really?" Tom nodded. "Awesome. Let's get going, then."

* * *

Tucker. The man thought himself exceedingly courtious for divulging his own name. To be honest, Sam didn't really care.

"So, what are you exactly?" Tucker asked. He was not seated on a stool, slouched, with hands resting on the handles of various knives and medical tools in the tray on the top of the small trolley. His fingers twitched, stroking the smooth metal.

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. Or tried to. "W-What?" he croaked.

Tucker was always looking at him. Calculating. Analyzing. "What. Are. You. Three words, very simple. Demon? Werewolf? What?"

Sam's nostrils flared. "Why the hell would you care?"

Tucker exhaled in a short puff. "You really aren't very bright, are you? Either that, or you exceedingly clever or reckless."

Sam frowned, giving a small tug on the restraints pinning his wrists and ankles to the cold table.

"In my opinion, I think it's the second. You seem rather intelligent. No offense, but it's rather useless to play dumb." Tucker waved a hand in the air absently. "Your aura has an intelligent air to it."

Sam shifted, tongue darting out to moisten his lips. "A-Are you some sort of psychic?" he asked. Tucker let out a snort. "No, it's just a mindframe some humans have. But we're avoiding the question aren't we? What are you?"

When Sam didn't say anything, Tucker smiled. "If you don't tell me, I'll just find out for myself."

"Yeah, and start doing experiments on me," Sam snapped. Tucker grinned then, wide and wicked. "Yes. See, I knew you were smart. I don't like to start my work with my subjects roughed up, but sometimes it must be done."

Tucker swept up a small flask and splashed a bit of cool water on Sam's stomach. Nothing. "Not a demon," he mused. He plucked a small silver knife from the tray. "Next," he chirped.

Sam felt sick. This guy was a freakin' psychopath.

Tucked sliced a long cut into Sam's bicep, and Sam grunted in pain, refraining from letting out a hiss.

"Ah! Shapeshifter or werewolf maybe, then," Tucker exclaimed, seemingly very interested in the painful looking burn surrounding the cut. "Werewolves are my specialty, you know. I've worked on them the longest," he told Sam.

Tucker put the knife back and rose from the stool. "Now for the last test; to see whether you are shapeshifter, or werewolf."

Sam swallowed.


	5. Chapter 5

Tucker held one clamp in each hand. "It's a funny trick. If you're a shapeshifter, you'll just scream your lungs out. Werewolf, you actually change partway. If under enough duress, you can shift out of the moon cycle, though it's exactly good for your health. But if it's only momentarily, you can heal."

Sam was silent.

"Ready?" Sam tensed, and Tucker let a clamp rest of each shoulder. Sam screamed, thrashing and arching off the table, nails scrabbling at the surface. Sam's screams turned into snarls, and withing seconds, his nails lengthened and his teeth sharpened.

Tucker chucked with glee and took the clamps away, both of which left nasty burns on Sam's shoulders. Sam's chest heaved as he gulped in air, little whines being released involuntarily.

"Werewolf. Goody."

"You're crazy," Sam whimpered. Tucker pursed his lips and shrugged as he turned off the car battery and placed the clamps on top. "Maybe, but at least I provide results," he said as he put the battery and clamps back into one of the dusty wooden cabinets he had in a corner of the room.

Sam's transformation took a few minutes to revert, but it felt like only second for waves of pain still torrented through his body, like a mini electrocution. His arm twitched on it's own.

"Don't fret, the muscle spasms will die off in a bit."

"Why, why are you doing this?" Sam groaned. Tucker yawned. "I've been asked that question so many times. See, I'm testing for new and more effective ways to defend ourselves from supernatural creatures. The closest breakthrough I have is actually for werewolves, so you're in luck. You'll die sooner if it works."

* * *

Tom stood in the middle of the goddamn street, arms crossed, and looking like a frustrated child.

"I lost it," he growled. Dean swore.

Tom looked at Dean. "You should call the pack up here. We got this far, and it's a start but we need more people looking, and someone else might be able to pick up the scent again."

Dean nodded, one hand already slipping into his pocket to grab the smooth case of his phone. He had started having the pack on speed dial, mostly because when the transformed during the full moon, he had no idea where the hell they ran off to.

One time Sam called him from the middle of the Appalacian Mountains, though Dean still to this day had no idea how the hell Sam had gotten signal in the middle of the goddamn mountains.

But Sam calling him from random spots around the country didn't wig Dean out as much as it used to. As long as Sam called within the 14hr timeframe. And in the several months Sam had ben a werewolf, he'd never killed anyone.

The European breed was able to survive on animals such as deer, just like any other wolf you'd come across. It turns out there weren't too many European wolves in America, so Sam was lucky to come across that pack.

Not that Dean cared of Sam was part of a pack or not.

"What?" A voice growled. Julia. Greaat. "Julia, get the others down here. We lost the trail, but we got a pretty good distance down the highway. Tom figured out they were heading east, but we needs help."

"Fine. We'll be there soon." Then she hung up. Dean grumbled something under his breath and flipped the phone shut and shoved it back into his pocket with unnecessary force.

* * *

Dean figured if anyone drove by right about then, staff from a nearby wacko house would be stopping by to scoop them all up. Keith and Tom were sniffing the road while Brad and Julia wandered around like lost puppy, sniffing air and cocking their heads.

The other members of the pack were either scouring the woods or searching around for any abandoned places.

Dean just sort of stood there, feeling more or less utterly useless. Emma came up next to him. "I know how you feel."

Dean let out a snort. "Sure." Emma chewed her thumbnail.

"Useless, right? Like, you wanna help n' stuff, but you can't because you aren't good enough," she said. Way to be subtle. Jeez.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Um."

Emma blushed. "What?"

Dean almost frowned, but managed to refrain.

"Nothin'."

* * *

Sam felt ready to vomit.

And Tucker hadn't even done much yet. He took some blood, a bit of spinal fluid, which hurt, and a few other things.

"I suppose you're wondering what I'm trying to do?"

Sam didn't respond. "Do you know how many hunters have died from being killed by a werewolf before having the chance of shooting it in the heart?"

"Yes," Sam said through gritted teeth. "Hmm. And yet, no one has come up with some other way to put them down. It's a shame, really."

Tucker turned towards Sam with another needle, and Sam tried struggling, jerking against the restraints to hard the table moved maybe a centimeter or two.

"You see, I'm devising a way to kill off every single werewolf on the planet. If I can incorporate silver particles in your blood stream and other bodily fluids, like saliva, then when you came in contact with other wolves, you'd be poisoning them as well, no matter what form you're in."

Sam stared at him with wide eyes. "B-But we don't kill anyone! No every werewolf hurts people. Around the world there are other breeds, and they can live off of deer and other animals, you don't have to kill us!"

Tucker shrugged. "One, I can't your word at that. Two, even if you don't, other do."

Sam struggled again. "That's possibly thousands of people." Tucker shrugged again. "Sacrifices must be made for the greater good. Haven't you ever heard that before?"

Tucker laughed.

"It'll be a world without werewolves."


	6. Chapter 6

"I have it!" Emma called. Everyone's heads swiveled around to stare at her for a good moment before she was being run at from multiple directions.

"Where?" Julia demanded before Dean could ask. Emma pointed at a tire tracks on the edge of the road. Brad clapped a hand up Emma's shoulder. "Good work there, Emma," he said.

She blushed, happy.

"Tom," Julia called. "Track this." Tom didn't say anything, just knelt down and took a deep breath, notrils flaring as the scent wafted up his nose.

He nodded.

"I got it."

* * *

Tucker raised a needle, red and silver liquid mixed together inside. "Ah. It's ready," he said, sounding genuinely excited.

Sam trembled, drifting somewhere between awareness and unconsciousness.

There were incisions here and there across his chest and he was pretty sure he'd taken a sample of everything in his body.

Tucker stood over his, eyes alight with an emotion Sam couldn't read.

He poised the tip of the needle above Sam's arm, then slid it in, finger moving to rest on the plunger as Sam's arm jerked from the pinch..

"No," Sam whimpered, lower lip trembling and pupils wide, too weak to try and move away.

CRASH! Both men flinched and Sam used whatever reserves he had left to lift his head a fraction of the table.

His pack, all of them angry and ready to fight. But at the head, leading them in, was his big brother with a gun in his hand.

"Get the hell away from my brother," he snarled. Tucker smiled. "Too late," he sighed before pushing the plunger all the way down.

Sam seized, screaming and thrashing, his arms flailing and being yanked down again by the cuffs and his legs jerking uncontrollably.. Dean let loose, emptying his entire clip into Tucker's chest, though he was positive he'd regret not making him suffer.

He dropped the gun, which fell to a thump on the dirt floor, a small puff of dust billowing up into the air. Dean dashed to Sam's side, who'd by then gone deathly still.

"Sam?" Sam's adam apple bobbed as he swallowed painfully, eyes wide and filled with unspeakable agony.

"Sammy," Dean soothed. "It's alright, the bastard's dead." Sam squeezed his eyes shut, jerkily shaking his head as though the action pain him.

Dean frowned, green eyes searching Sam's face. "No? What do mean?" Sam's mouth opened but all he could really do was open and close it again, a choked groan escaped his throat.

"We don't have time for this, we need to get him out of here," Julia said, though for once, her tone was gentle. Emma was clinging onto Brad's sleeve, eyes watering as she looked at Sam, fingertips shaking as they squeezed the fabric between them even tighter.

Keith stared wide-eyed, beads of persperation on his forehead. Dean nodded. "You're right," he said. He unstrapped his brother from the table. It might have been easier for Brad to carry Sam, but Dean plain out refused to have anyone else touch him.

Not only that, but Sam had gripped onto Dean's sleeve, a similar hold to Emma's on Brad, and he clearly didn't want to let go.

"It's okay, Sam. You're going to be okay." Sam just buried his face in Dean's shirt and hoped he didn't feel the tears.

* * *

"There's something wrong with him," Conner said softly. Dean looked up sharply, before glancing down at Sam, who was still out. He mouth turned down. "What do you mean?"

Conner inhaled. "He should have started healing already from his werewolf abilities, but his like his body isn't even trying." Dean swallowed hard, teeth biting the inside of his lips while his fingers curled a fraction tighter around Sam's hand.

"But it's not life threatening?" Conner's tongue darted out to swipe the corner of his mouth. "Honestly, I don't know. I just wish we know what that fucker did to him, you know? Then we might know why hes not healing."

Dean looked back down at his brother. There was a soft knock, and Julia stuck her head in. "How is he?" she asked. Conner looked at Sam worriedly, lips pursed together and arms crossed as he leaned against the wall in the corner next to the door.

"Not healing. That guy must've done something." Julia glanced behind her and stepped in fully, reaching around to pull the door shut behind her. "What?" she hissed, but she seemed to be merely worried.

Conner gestured to Sam's still form. "He's not healing. Not at all. I can't think of a reason why he isn't."

Julia frowned. "We need to ask him. Or go back to the place. Maybe both, who knows." Dean exhaled. "I agree. Only Sam knows what that crazy bastard did. But Sam does need rest; healing or not."

Julia tapped a finger against her arm. "True." Dean stood, placing Sam's hand on the blanket with greater care than most people would assume he possessed.

"We don't do anything until he wakes up, and then try and get a few answers from him. If he can't, then we wait. Understood?" he asked in a commanding tone.

Conner nodded. Julia steeled her gaze, but seemed to just barely force her jaw to dip. Then her gaze fell on Sam and it melted faster than ice cream in a sauna.

"We'll wait."


	7. Chapter 7

"It's okay Sam, talk slowly," Dean soothed. Sam let out a small groan. "D'n," he breathed. Dean nodded. "Yeah, I'm right here."

"P...p...po..," Sam struggled to make the words come out right. He'd just woken up and Dean couldn't get a word out before Sam tried talking. "Poison," he said finally.

Dean frowned, his alarm meter skyrocketing. "Poison? What do you mean?"

Sam let out a shuddering breath.

"Dean...I..I've...been..poisoned."

He inhaled sharply, eyes flickering upwards to the first werewolf to come into his vision. "Is it possible?" She blinked a few times, racking her brain desperately for an answer. "I think so," she answered in a hushed whisper.

"Sammy? Sam, stay with me. You gotta tell me what you were poisoned with."

Sam made a face, though it was of pain rather than discomfort. "He injected...liquid...silver...in me."

"Jesus," Dean swore. Julia looked sick. "What the hell does that mean?" Julia waved her hands, desperately trying to put words to gestures. "T-The liquid silver could get into our bloodstream, and it would eventually get to our heart. He'll die if he doesn't get it out of his system."

Sam shook his head frantically. "N-No...injected in all fluids...contact with other wolves...they'd die too." Conner put a hand over his face. "That bastard is trying to wipe out werewolves," he whispered.

Then he looked at Julia. "Did you come in contact with any fluid from him?" Julia's eyes widened. "H-His blood...but so did you." Conner nodded. Dean frowned. "So there's a chance you might be infected?"

Connor nodded. "We can't take any chances. The two of us should stay in here, just in case." He showed Dean his hands, and on a finger or two, was a small cut. "I'm pretty sure I'm already infected. Julia probably is too. Everyone in the pack gets cuts from shifting and plundering around in the woods all day."

Dean swallowed visibly.

"Alright. You two stay here. I'll explain to everyone else, okay? Watch Sam for me." Julia bowed her head stiffly, taking Dean's place beside Sam as he opened the door and slipped through. He shut it behind him.

Keith was the first one on his feet.

"How is he?" Dean licked his lips. Everyone's faces turned at the sound of Keith's question. "Not good," he began gruffly. "Sam's been posioned." Mouths started to open. "Hey!" Dean barked. Silence endured. "That crazy bastard inject liquid silver into his bloodstream and the other fluids in his body. It's slowly killing him."

Emma stared at him with wide eyes. "It's also an attempt to make a disease to wipe out werewolves. Conner and Julia are almost certainly infected from coming in contact with Sam's blood, and both have agreed to stay in there," he jabbed a thumb behind him towards the closed door, "with Sam both so that we can keep an eye on them, and also so they can watch Sam."

Dean sighed, eyes falling closed for a brief second.

"Look. I have no idea what to do. Werewolves really aren't my division...but there's no way in hell I'm letting my little brother die in there, got that?" Out of the corner of his eyes, Dean saw Brad nod.

Tom stood. "We should separate, look for some sort of cure and meet back here in a day or two." Emma sniffled, wiping at her eyes. Dean nodded. "Okay. You guys do that, and I'll do what I can from here."

* * *

"Julia, you okay?"

Julia coughed again, deep in her chest. "Yeah," she croaked, "I'm fine."

She coughed again, and flecks of blood dotted her palm. "Oh my God," Connor breathed, his eyes wide. Julia was white as a sheet, her fingers trembling. Sam lifted his head. "It's my fault."

The werewolf looked over at the trembling form of her alpha. "No it's not," she growled, "It's that sadistic man's." Another cough shook her body and she huffed in annoyance before sitting down.

Sam pulled himself int a sitting position, his face contorted into a grimace. "Sam, stop. You're just going to hurt yourself more." He shook his head, eyes glinting in determination. "We have to send the word out. Warn the other packs."

Conner bowed her head. "I agree. Even if we're the only ones effected right now, they deserve the chance to try and prepare for it if and when it comes." Julia eyes him skeptically. "Prepare? And how will they do that when we can't, with all we know?"

He shrugged. "I don't know." His bright eyes caught hers. "But you know what? Sometimes it pays to have a little faith."

* * *

**I figured y'all would like a short chapter now instead of a longer chapter later.**


	8. Chapter 8

Sam convulsed, throwing up another mouthful of silver streaked saliva.

"Shit. Hold on, Sammy." Dean rubbed circles on Sam's back, something he used to calm his little brother when they were small.

"Dean," Sam moaned, looking absolutely miserable. Suddenly he gagged, before vomiting up more saliva.

Then he spat a wad of blood into the bucket, making Dean's stomach plummet.

The blood had swirls of shimmering silver that seemed to stare up at him and say, Yep, see what's killing your brother?

Dean growled to himself, handing the bucket to Connor for him to rinse out in the bathroom when it finally seemed like Sam was done puking.

"It's his body's way of trying to expel the poison," Julia croaked.

She was pale and looking more and more like Sam as days went by.

Sam was getting worse. His fluffy brown hair that Dean loved to tease him about was now stringy and laden with grease from not having been washed for a few days.

He was plagued with constant tremors and agonizing headaches, on top of the exceedingly high fever that refused to break.

By all definition, Sam should have been a lot closer to death than he was, but he was fighting and Dean was trying his damnest to make sure it stayed that way.

Then werewolves started dying across the nation.

* * *

"How?" Dean demanded.

Brad sighed. "Emma accidently transmitted it to another wolf when she went to warn their pack, and they passed it on, ect. It's happening, just we feared. Werewolves are dying all over the place."

Dean groaned. "Crap," he growled. In the room behind him, he could hear Sam beginning to retch again. "That psycho's plan is succeeding. Has anyone found anything yet?"

Brad, the only werewolf left in the pack that wasn't getting sick, shook his head.

"No. We just have to lay low and let the poison run its course."

Dean looked at him in concern. "Most of the pack will die," he said softly. Brad nodded.

"I know. But I can survive. It's your brother you should be worried about. When packs die and leave their leader behind, the alpha usually goes crazy from the grief."

Dean hung his head.

"I can't deal with all of this."

Brad clapped a hand on his shoulder before standing. "I'm going to go check out that pack down in Texas. They seem to be unaffected, so I figured I can inform others of what they're doing so they have a better chance of living through this."

Dean nodded.

* * *

Sam wouldn't wake up anymore.

It didn't matter how many people yelled and screamed at him or how hard they shook him.

He couldn't wake up anymore.

Connor said something about it being up to Sam now, but Dean wasn't really listening.

Every day, Sam's breaths grew shallower. The other wolves in the pack were quickly following in his footsteps.

Julia and Connor were the worst; they threw up almost hourly as the silver forced it's way through their bodies.

Keith wasn't far behind, constantly coughing and dark circles forming under his eyes from stress and lack of sleep.

Emma seemed to be doing alright, though she was still very aware of how bad it would get.

Everyone was scared and under a lot of pressure, especially since there was a growing number of furious alphas who were searching for them because of their sick packs.

So far, no one outside of their pack knew Sam was patient zero, and they intended to keep it that way.

If word got out that Sam was the one who began the spread, there would be no qualms about killing him.

Julia watched Dean for a moment. "What will you do...if we die?" she asked quietly.

Dean blinked, turning to scowl at her. "You're not gonna die," he grumbled.

She huffed, brushing her raven hair behind her shoulders.

"Dean," she began with forced patience, "Wolves have already died from this. The world is watching as thousand of werewolves die, and even if we survive, our pack will be slaughtered for this disease."

Dean stood up. "Shut up," he snapped. Julia scoffed, rolling her eyes.

She watched Dean leave, seeing Connor looking at her from the corner of her eye.

"I thought you hated him."

Julia turned up her nose. "I do," she insisted.

Connor smiled weakly, and shook his head. "No, you don't. If you did, you wouldn't be trying to help him."

Julia sputtered indignantly. "I'm not trying to help him!" she protested, a little louder than necessary.

The redhead's smile grew wider and he laughed softly in amusement before laying back against the small couch.

"Whatever you say."


	9. Chapter 9

Salut!

Before anything else, I feel I should apologize for the horrendously long length of time it has taken me to make my way back to this.

In my defense, I go from fandom to fandom, and can only work on stories for the particular show/movie/book I'm on; I have tried many times and failed to make myself interested in writing for a fandom I'm not currently immersed in. If I can make myself write, the quality is typically awful, and it lacks passion and heart.

That's not okay with me. I want to write the best I can, and I want to love what I'm writing. It makes the world the writer creates all the better, no?

I began rewatching Supernatural yesterday, and read through this series today. The last chapters of this story are very forced, and I can see that I drove the story into the ground while writing this and simply left it there, unable to make myself go on.

So, as you may have already guessed, I will be rewriting this series. I'll do my best, and can only hope that it's enough.

Please feel free to comment or message me if there is anything in this story and/or Dark Side of The Moon that you would like to be kept, or anything you feel should be changed; advice is very welcome, as are constructive criticism and any requests for the series' future.

Please let me know! :)

~Bananas


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